"You’re mine, Lena," he whispered, his breath fanning over my lips. "You always have been."

And when he kissed me again, I didn’t resist.

18

LENA

I woke gasping, clawing at my sheets, my body shaking so hard my teeth clattered.

The room was still.

Empty.

But the scent of him lingered.

I sat up too fast, my head spinning.

The sheets were twisted around my legs, damp with sweat.

My throat was raw, as if I’d been screaming.

My hands trembled as I reached for my bedside lamp, my fingers fumbling over the switch.

Light flooded the room.

Nothing.

Nothing but the erratic rise and fall of my own breath, the panic twisting my insides.

I nearly laughed, a desperate, hysterical sound clawing its way up my throat.

It was just a dream.

Just a dream.

But then I felt it.

A dull ache pulsed between my thighs, deep and sore.

No.

No, no, no.

I kicked off the sheets, my heart hammering as I pushed up my nightshirt and—

The air left my lungs.

A bruise bloomed on my hip, dark and unmistakable—a handprint.

I stared at it, my vision tunneling.

My pulse pounded in my ears, an erratic, deafening roar.

This wasn’t real.

This wasn’t happening.

I ran to the bathroom, flicking on the harsh fluorescent light.

My reflection stared back at me, pale and hollow-eyed.

My lips trembled.

I pulled my shirt higher.

More bruises.

Deep.

Shaped like fingers.

I choked on a sob, gripping the sink to steady myself.

My skin burned where he had touched me.

"You feel me, don’t you?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, bile rising in my throat.

I had to be losing my mind.

I had to.

Dr. Halverson.

I needed to see Dr. Halverson.

Now.

19

LENA

The office was sterile.

Too clean.

The air reeked of antiseptic, but underneath it, I could smell something else—old paper, faint cologne, something bitter and chemical.

Dr. Halverson watched me from behind his desk, his fingers steepled, his expression unreadable.

“Hallucinations can be extremely vivid,” he said calmly. “They can feel real.”

I clenched my hands together to keep them from shaking.

“This wasn’t a hallucination.”

His eyes flickered with something I couldn’t name.

“Schizophrenia often presents with highly realistic tactile hallucinations,” he continued, his voice smooth, practiced. “Your mind can fabricate sensations, even pain.”

I sucked in a sharp breath.

“Then explain this.”

I yanked up my sleeve, revealing the deep bruises wrapped around my wrist.

His gaze dropped to the marks, and for the first time, I saw it—hesitation.

Uncertainty.

“Lena,” he said carefully, “have you been hurting yourself?”

Rage boiled up inside me, sudden and hot.

“You think I did this?” I shoved up the hem of my skirt, exposing the handprint on my thigh. “Explain this, then. Did I grab myself hard enough to leave that?”

Dr. Halverson leaned back, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“Stress-induced delusions can manifest physically—”

“This is not a delusion!” I shouted, my voice cracking. “Something is happening to me! Someone—”

My breath hitched.

“Cassian.”

His name tasted wrong in my mouth.

Like something forbidden.

Dr. Halverson studied me, his gaze sharp now, assessing.

“Cassian,” he repeated. “Who is Cassian?”

I opened my mouth, then hesitated.

Who was he?

A ghost?

A demon?

A figment of my unraveling mind?

Or something else?

Dr. Halverson exhaled slowly.

“I think we need to adjust your medication.”

I laughed.

A sharp, brittle sound.

“You think a pill is going to stop him?”

He didn’t answer.

Because he didn’t believe me.

No one would.

I shoved down my sleeve, my hands still trembling as I stood.

“I’m not crazy.”

Dr. Halverson’s expression didn’t change.

“We’ll talk again soon, Lena.”

I walked out, my legs unsteady.

The hallway stretched long and empty before me, the fluorescent lights buzzing softly overhead.

My pulse pounded as I reached the exit, my fingers gripping the cold metal handle.

A whisper curled against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

"That was cute, Lena. Running to your little doctor."

The lights flickered.

"But you know the truth now. No one can save you."

A chill crawled down my spine.

And somewhere, behind me, the sound of laughter followed me home.